


Saturday Night & Sunday Morning

by sorion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But only a bit, Character Study, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-05-02 14:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorion/pseuds/sorion
Summary: God's plan may have been ineffable, but so were Crowley and Aziraphale. And God's plan couldn't hope to compare, really.edited, extended, higher rating(from earlier version)





	Saturday Night & Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> "Missing scene" (not that I think the scene was actually missing) of Aziraphale staying with Crowley before they set their plan to fool heaven and hell in motion.

It wasn't until Crowley'd closed the front door of his flat behind himself quite firmly and watched Aziraphale look around the interior with his usual expression of not-quite-approval-but-it-would-be-weird-if-it-was-any-different that he dared to voice what had been on his mind ever since he'd realised what that blasted prophecy had to mean.

"Just to avoid miscommunication," he started, waiting for Aziraphale to look at him, "you actually think that prophecy means what I think it means, right?"

Aziraphale blinked a few times to process that tangled string of words.  
"The, uh, playing with fire bit or the choosing faces bit?"

Crowley shrugged – perhaps uncomfortably or a tad confused but definitely less than certain. Thoughts were so much harder to put into words when one didn't want to be saying them in the first place.  
"Well, they do kind of go together, don't they, considering what would burn either of us. Respectively?" It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Ah. Yes, there is that," Aziraphale agreed. "Given that what would burn either of us – respectively – definitely wouldn't burn the other," a playful and hopeful little smile bloomed on his face, " _choosing faces_ is definitely the way to go, then," he stated.

Crowley was too far removed from either feeling playful or hopeful, so he just stared at Aziraphale and even took off his glasses to increase the impact of the incredulousness inherent in his stare. Did Aziraphale truly not see the implications? The dangers? He must have seen them.  
"Are you _listening_ to yourself?" he demanded to know. "That's not gonna happen," he insisted. "I'm not gonna let my lot drag you to hell!"

Aziraphale's smile faded, and he returned the look seriously (with a daring dollop of defiance to go with it).  
"Oh, like it's no big deal to let you be dragged to heaven?" Crowley's worries now sank into Aziraphale in reverse. What heaven might do to a demon – _his demon_ – didn't bear thinking about.  
"That'll be just as bad. Angels are no bett-" He stopped himself before he could finish the word, but not before the meaning got across quite clearly, and a distinctly human flush started to creep up his neck.

The outburst startled a _very_ pleased smile onto Crowley's face, despite his worry.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Aziraphale defended himself.

Crowley just nodded. "I do." The smile morphed into the expected smirk. "And so do you, I think." He raised an eyebrow.

Aziraphale looked away for two seconds to compose himself (without the action doing any good).  
"My point _is_ ," he changed the topic with a surprising amount of dignity, "that it will be as dangerous for you as for me."

Crowley shrugged again. "Alpha Centauri is still an option."

"We did not put in all this effort to save the world only to leave it behind," Aziraphale said firmly.

"Yeah, didn't think you'd go for that one."

"Besides," Aziraphale added, "Agnes wouldn't have left us the prophecy if it wasn't going to do any good, _and_ we already managed to avoid the apocalypse unscathed. So, who is to say this wasn't truly a part of, you know, the ineffable plan, after all?"

Crowley smiled, amused again. "You and me? We're ineffable, are we?"

Aziraphale turned that pleasant thought around his head and eventually gave a half-nod. "Might as well be," he said, his eyes softening. "Haven't we always been?"

Crowley's eyes did a remarkably good job at doing their best to soften as well. "You're saying we might as well go the last mile together and hope for the best?"

Warmth spread through Aziraphale right to the tips of his invisible wings as it always did whenever Crowley spoke of them as a unity that even the Almighty couldn't imagine breaking in two. He could tell there were words stuck in the back of his throat that urgently wanted to be voiced, and he almost visibly jumped off the metaphorical diving board of letting those words tumble out in a liberating whoosh of air.  
"If this truly is the last mile to go, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have by my side."

Crowley had never been immune to Aziraphale – especially not when his dutiful angel threw caution into the wind and expressed his true loyalties – and a tingle was running up his spine until it reached his throat to tickle his own hidden words. He took a fortifying, deep breath to say something, thought better of it, stood there for unreasonably long ten seconds with an open mouth, changed his mind twice more, and finally burst out:  
"We're actually going to talk about this?"

Aziraphale's eyes darted around the room, seemingly trying to catch whatever thought must have been hidden in that statement.  
"What?" he asked when he couldn't find it.

"Well, you know, I was beginning to think we probably never will. If there ever is a moment for a confession, one would think that the end of the world qualifies, but then we were busy trying to prevent it, only to be facing _yet another_ potentially deadly event, only, this time, we have actual time on our hands before anything happens, so, honestly, I don't think I can _not_ , you know."

"What on earth are you babbling about, Crowley?"

"Do you love me, angel?" Crowley said, before he could change his mind (once or several times).

Aziraphale's thought processes came to a screeching halt.  
"I... well..." He breathed out, averted his eyes, cleared his throat, and then tried again, more or less steadily meeting Crowley's demanding stare. "Obviously. That is, after all, one of the defining characteristics of an angel, and-"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Crowley appeared to have found his equilibrium, now that he'd broached the subject. Though perhaps equilibrium was the wrong word, because it was like a landslide that was still gaining speed, dragging hidden words and feelings with it any burying everything else.  
The growing desperation in Aziraphale's expression was at least somewhat heartening; it made him feel less alone in his millennia of dithering. He took a step closer.  
"Do you love me, Aziraphale?" he repeated, softly this time. Not a landslide then. It felt more like a dam breaking and finally watering a field that had been dying of thirst. He could finally _drink_.

"Of course I do!" Aziraphale burst out, taking a half-step backwards. "In every conceivable way, you-" He stopped himself before he could call Crowley something either insulting or sentimental.  
"I can't imagine this planet without you; I can't imagine my very _existence_ without you. But none of that matters!"

Crowley just watched him. "Why? Because of our respective sides that we don't have anymore?"

"No. It's..." Aziraphale floundered, "... we're still what we are, even if we don't have sides."

"Because a demon can't love?" Crowley prompted, knowing Aziraphale's answer before it came.

"No!" was the anticipated protest. "I would never say such a thing about you! Of course you can feel lo-" Despite meaning every word, he couldn't say it out loud.

Crowley smiled, but his eyes sharpened, and he stepped closer again, backing Aziraphale against the wall.  
"Let me tell you something about how I feel," he hissed.

Aziraphale wasn't afraid of Crowley. He'd never been afraid of him. He was, however, terribly afraid of things changing. He was afraid that change would mean the loss of the most important thing in his eternal life. He was afraid that change would lead him somewhere he didn't know how to follow. But Crowley was one force he didn't know how to withstand. (Mostly because he didn't want to.)  
So, he waited for change to sweep him away in its wake. And sweep him away Crowley did.

"I absolutely _hate_ how much I love you, angel."

Aziraphale released a shuddering breath that only barely avoided being a whimper.

"You wouldn't be wrong to say that demons don't know how to do that, because I know bugger all about loving you, and I do it all the same. But do you know what I hate even more than loving you?"

Aziraphale shook his head, his eyes and heart wide open.

"Denying myself you."

"Oh," Aziraphale sighed.

"I'd have you in every which way you'd want me," Crowley continued, now that the dam was most definitely and irrevocably torn down, watering thirsty corners of his field he didn't even know he had, "and now I might lose you completely, because you'll be going to _hell_ , looking like me, as soon as those _wankers_ come up to collect you!"

Aziraphale just stared at him in awe, as if he'd just been given the most romantic speech in history of speeches, which might as well have been the truth, if one considered that the speaker was a demon, and their history of speeches wasn't known for its romance. Crowley's not unfounded worries barely managed to scratch the surface of his perception anymore. He was indeed swept away completely and utterly, and there was nothing else to do but to take a deep breath and enjoy the ride, as they said.  
"Oh... my dear heart..."

"Did you listen to a word I just said?" Crowley wanted to know. He also wanted to sound indignant, but that was becoming more and more difficult in the face of Aziraphale's effervescent radiance.

"I listened to the important bits," Aziraphale said, smiling benignly and daring to raise a hand and cup Crowley's cheek.

Crowley calmed down somewhat when being confronted with the steady rock that was his angel (and the promising potential implied by the soft touch on his face). Then he realised something else.  
"You really think we can make it..." he said in wonder.

Aziraphale's eyes hardened.  
"I refuse to have come to this moment, only for it to end tomorrow," he declared. "We _will_ make it work."

Crowley wasn't really very good at resisting temptations on the best of days; this was not (yet) the best of days, and Aziraphale's commanding voice did funny things to regions of his body that he didn't usually pay a lot of attention to.  
There was only so much anyone could expect him to take, so he finally claimed the determined lips in a kiss, feeling them soften at the first touch.

They kissed either for a long or a short while, and neither could have said which, but eventually they had to break the kiss, just to make sure that the moment wouldn't dissolve upon them opening their eyes.

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed again. "My dear," he stole a brief kiss, "dear heart."

Crowley granted him some more exploration before he complained against his lips.  
"Six thousand _bloody_ years, Aziraphale," he grouched, and then kissed, only to grouch some more, "and you had to worry about sides," kiss, "and angels and demons," another kiss.

Aziraphale tactfully declined to mention anything about Crowley's own issues with the heavenly or earthly concept of love and was confident that kissing expressed it well enough on its own.  
"Good thing we are on our own side, then," was what he did say, his lips never leaving Crowley's.

They stood embracing and kissing each other for a long while (and it was definitely a long one, this time), until Crowley decided that this particular temptation and further explorations should be relocated to the bedroom.

***

"What the heaven?!?" Crowley shrieked some hours later, he and Aziraphale sitting up abruptly after having been woken rather rudely by the universe realigning reality.

"What on earth was that?"

Crowley shook his head once, clearing it of the fog of an interrupted nap.  
"Felt like the fabric of reality resetting or something." He found Aziraphale's eyes. "I'm guessing it's part of whatever Adam was fixing."

"Oh." Aziraphale held a hand to his chest, trying to feel the information from the shift as Crowley had. "Possibly," he agreed, sensing metaphysical cogwheels snapping into their new positions. He brightened when he realised other potential effects of such a shift. "Do you think my bookshop might have been affected as well?"

Crowley sent him a fond smile. "Might have."

"It did feel a bit earthshattering."

"Oh, no, angel," Crowley disagreed, pushing Aziraphale back onto the bed and leaning over him. " _Earthshattering_ was a few hours ago."

"Hm, yes," Aziraphale agreed lowly. "You're right. Changing the fabric of reality couldn't hope to compare." He allowed and returned the following kisses for several minutes before he believed it was his duty to point out that there were still things they needed to keep in mind.  
"Shouldn't we investigate...?" he asked reluctantly. He got more kisses instead of an answer at first.

"I'm procrastinating," Crowley admitted. "The moment we go out there, it's only a matter of time before they get to us."

Aziraphale sighed into the next kiss. "They could get to us here." That woke him up more, and he pushed Crowley back a bit. "Before we're ready."

"They're not coming in here," Crowley assured him, grinning darkly. "Didn't work out too well for them, last time."

"Due to the unholy puddle in the hallway?" Aziraphale asked pointedly and raised an eyebrow.

Crowley pulled a face. "Didn't know you'd noticed."

Aziraphale didn't reply to that; he simply laid a gentle hand on Crowley's cheek. He could have said something about how hard it had been to give Crowley the holy water in the first place, how glad he was that he'd done it anyway, the sheer extent of the gratitude he felt for both of them to still be here at all...  
In the end, he just paused to take a deep breath and soak up the closeness. He could drown in those eyes and never want for anything.  
"I suppose another hour or so can't hurt..."

Crowley smirked happily. "To remind us why we'll want to succeed."

Aziraphale was pretty sure that telling Crowley that he would do far worse than be dragged to hell to keep him safe would not go over well. Instead, he told him reverently, "I love you so much," and then proceeded to demonstrate those words with everything he had.

And Crowley answered in equal measures, starting with heated kisses down Aziraphale's neck.  
"Any preference for further procrastinations?" he murmured into the juncture of a shoulder, lightly biting the muscle he found and sucking it for good measure.

Aziraphale's world had narrowed down to that point on his neck and the general area between his legs and decidedly _not_ anywhere that would have been conducive to coherent speech.  
"I thought we'd rather figured out something pleasurable earlier," he eventually managed, making Crowley chuckle, which vibrated through his whole body.

Crowley lifted his head to grin fondly at the bright angel spread out on his black bedsheets.  
"I meant," he explained, stealing a kiss, "are there other things you're curious about? Positions?" he clarified. "Genital configurations?"

Aziraphale was a bit boggled by the sudden influx of possibilities. He'd had some... dalliances in the past, of course, but he'd never dared thinking about Crowley too much, and he'd most certainly never been presented with all potential options _and_ the Serpent of Eden, Architect of Sin, Saunterer of Tempting Hips.  
"All of them, at some point, I would imagine," he breathed out.

Crowley managed an unlikely grin that was both wolfish and endearing, and he hid it in another deep kiss to compose himself.  
"We will survive this," he promised against Aziraphale's lips, rolled completely on top of his lover and his hips downwards.

"We will."

"And I will take you apart in every which way I know how." He swallowed Aziraphale's answering whimper with his tongue. "And then you'll do it all to me."

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed, wrapping both arms around Crowley and opening his legs to accommodate him warmly, passionately, lovingly.

Crowley settled in the cradle of Aziraphale's thighs like he belonged there (because he did) and grinned. "And then we'll start all over again."

Aziraphale's dizzy, happy giggle bubbled up like Champaign, bursting on Crowley's face and making his eyes crinkle and shine undemonically in return. They sank into another kiss more intoxicating than even the best bottle of wine, warm skin gliding together, and the distance between their very souls evaporating.

"Tell me what you want, angel."

"I..." Aziraphale still couldn't quite grasp the reality of the situation. "Anything. Anything, my darling. Just more."

Crowley rolled down his hips pointedly. "More of this?"

Aziraphale moved with him. "Yes."

"Inside you?"

Every fibre of Aziraphale's body wanted to yell, _'Yes!'_ , but he wasn't quite gone far enough for all rational thoughts to have left him. "We, uh..." His body apparently hadn't got the memo and kept moving with Crowley's. "Perhaps we shouldn't take too long."

"Hmm," Crowley hummed, first biting Aziraphale's bottom lip and then his chin before moving to the neck. "You said an hour wouldn't hurt."

Aziraphale huffed a small laugh. "So I did."

Crowley propped his chin on Aziraphale's chest and smirked up at him. "Allow me to make use of every sssssecond, angel."

There really was no use to fighting it, was there? Aziraphale cupped Crowley's head with both hands and took in every beloved detail of his face.  
"Temptation accomplished," he gave in.

It _was_ unlikely that one hour would make much of a difference, Aziraphale reasoned. And who was he to deny them both to express their love one more time before standing up against the forces of heaven and hell (and their respective bosses)?  
And Crowley was slithering down his body as if he'd been created for it. For _him_.

This experience was rather different from the one, hours earlier. That one had been an explosive coming together of two supernatural beings who had – for six thousand years – believed to never be able to share themselves with the other in such a way. The touches had been surprised and a bit desperate, and it had been over quite quickly, only for them to fall into an exhausted embrace and rest in bedding, arms, and love.

There was still surprise and wonder at every touch, every kiss, lick, bite. Surprise that this was reality and not a dream; the kind of old dreams that never could have measured up to the sensations and emotions coursing through and between them now.

Surprise at the tongue wandering lower and lower, giving Aziraphale's cock only cursory attention before mouthing over his bollocks and behind them, making Aziraphale's breath hitch.

"Oh," he breathed, surprised. "Oh, my dear." He'd read about such an act, had been impressed with the humans' inventiveness, had expected it to be a pleasurable experience, but he'd never himself had the chance to have it performed on him.  
" _Oh_!" he exclaimed when the tongue first breached him.

Crowley for his part would have had all manners of things to say to Aziraphale's evident enjoyment, but even a serpent's tongue cannot do two things at the same time, so he just soaked up every scent, taste, sound, and touch, making use of his fingers once his tongue had eased the way.  
Eventually, though, he did find a reason to speak and reclaimed his tongue to do so.  
"Could you reach under your pillow, angel?"

It took Aziraphale several tries to make sense of the words, then both his hands hurried to meet with Crowley's request and dug around under his pillow blindly. One of his hands bumped into something, and he brought out the bottle. He blinked to clear his eyes and then promptly shivered and flushed further.

Crowley smiled playfully when Aziraphale handed him the lube.  
"We could probably go without it, what with us not being human, but it's still fun to play the human way," he said, already applying the jelly to his fingers.

Aziraphale chuckled breathily, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.  
"You've managed to play with me nicely before, even without-" Four fingers breached him at once, and his eyes fell closed, his back arched, his legs fell open even more, and an explosive moan escaped his throat.

Crowley was completely enticed by what he was doing, his eyes firmly on his four fingers, his thumb that was gently caressing the perineum, and Aziraphale's body that was accepting him so readily.  
"Oh, angel," he breathed. "If only you could see what I'm seeing..." He rotated his fingers, marvelling at how his lover trembled and nearly sobbed. Aziraphale's cock leaked a steady trickle of pre-come as Crowley worked on him relentlessly.  
"I could make you come just from this," he rasped. "Couldn't I?"

Aziraphale was beyond words, all his muscles shaking from the strain of his arousal.

"I want to," Crowley told him, almost hypnotised by his fingers and the warm body engulfing them. "I want to finger-fuck you until you shake apart; I want to watch your hole clench around me and your cock make a mess. I want to work on you through your orgasm, squeeze out every last drop of come from the inside."  
He was painfully hard himself, all from watching something more filthy and beautiful than he could have imagined even in his more elaborate fantasies.

Aziraphale only managed sobs and whimpers amongst the moans, mindlessly moving his hips in tune with Crowley's fingers and the waves rushing through his body.

"Then I want to bury my cock in your slick, loosened hole and spill so deep inside you, you'll leak for weeks." He was babbling nonsense, and he knew it, but it was also what he wanted. Desperately. Own his beloved angel by wringing carnal pleasure from him and marking his territory by spilling his seed inside. Listening to nothing but their bodies to enjoy each other to the fullest.  
He was caught in his desires so much, he almost missed the first tremors that started sweeping Aziraphale away. Then he first felt and then saw it: Aziraphale clenching around him and his cock spilling seed up to his chest. The sounds he was making were quite literally not from this world, and time seemed to stop for the second time in less than a day.

When Aziraphale's blacked-oud vision returned to him, his chest still rose and fell rapidly, and he looked down the length of his body, finding Crowley staring at the mess he'd made almost in disbelief.  
He was almost surprised when he managed to quite clearly enunciate, "Get that cock in me, this instant."

That woke Crowley from his daze, and he crawled over Aziraphale's body to prop himself on one hand, while the other was positioning his cock. For a couple of seconds, Crowley got lost in the stormy eyes staring right into his heart.  
"Won't last long," he said in lieu of something mushy.

"I don't care, as long as you come deep inside me, like you promised," Aziraphale said, wrapped both his arms around Crowley neck and pulled him into a kiss, all but fucking his mouth with his tongue with no hesitation.

Both their groans were effectively swallowed when Crowley finally sank into the waiting body beneath him.  
Aziraphale kept one arm wrapped around Crowley's shoulder, but the other hand went down to grab a handful of arse. He wanted to feel Crowley closer, closer closer, and clenched around him, pulling him in.  
And Crowley managed maybe ten thrusts before he fulfilled his promise and filled Aziraphale.  
Later, Crowley would tell himself it was sweat on his cheeks instead of the tears he couldn't hold back. For now, he just buried his face in Aziraphale's neck, uncertain where else to put all those feelings.

Aziraphale just received the love gratefully with his own. 

 

They slowly came down from their rush, holding each other tenderly and knowing that they'd never felt something so _right_ , so _perfect_. Perfectly inescapable.

Soon, they would have to get up and set their foolish plan in motion, but just then, they were still in their world, and the rest could wait.

***

"That was the weirdest thing I've ever done. And I've done some _weird_ things, angel," Crowley declared in the wee hours of Sunday morning, while looking at, well, himself.

Not-Crowley in front of him produced a very un-Crowley little smile on his Crowley-face.  
"It was just a kiss, my dear. I wasn't going to let you walk out there without one."

Not-Aziraphale nodded jerkily. "Right. So, as we discussed," he recounted. "We go about each other's business and meet once a day until... something happens."

"I don't believe we'll have to wait long."

"No. No, I don't believe so either." Not-Aziraphale's eyes hardened. "I expect the performance of your life, do you understand?"

"Of course. I think I've known you for long enough to do a credible impression. After all, the better our performances, the better the chances of the other in the time that follows..."

"Right. Right," not-Aziraphale agreed. He blinked for a few moments, taking in the sight of the love of his eternity wearing his face and smiling lovingly at him. Not-Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably and pulled a face.  
"And stop making me look so adorable, it's ridiculous."

Not-Crowley giggled cheerfully and pulled not-Aziraphale into another weird kiss that neither was inclined to end too soon, despite the weirdness.  
"I love you with all I have, dear heart," he said, his eyes shut and his lover close. "Please, take care."

Not-Aziraphale nodded firmly and pulled out of the embrace, keeping hold of one hand. "Love is supposed to conquer all, isn't it? Let's put that to the test." He cleared his throat and finally let go of the hand. "And don't go undermining my authority with the plants."

Not-Crowley grinned in a decidedly Aziraphale way that – surprisingly – wasn't at all out of place on his Crowley-face.  
"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

Not-Aziraphale hesitated by the door. "I love you," he said quickly. "Just... don't do anything stupid." With that, he hurried out the door, leaving behind his heart (and his face).

Not-Crowley didn't move from the door for long moments, having just watched his own heart and face walk out. Then he nodded decisively and cleared his throat.  
"Right, then." He picked up Crowley's sunglasses and put them on. "Best get used to those."

Behind him, some plants shivered.

"Now, now," he admonished and turned to face them. "You heard what he said. No undermining his authority. He'll be back before long, and you'll only get in trouble if I grant you leniency."

And Crowley _would_ be back before long. They both would be.

 

God's plan may have been ineffable, but so were Crowley and Aziraphale. 

And God's plan couldn't hope to compare, really.

 

**End**

 

P.S. If you liked my writing, please be on the lookout for [my novels](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14553988.Ursula_Katherine_Spiller) ♥ 

My fandom tumblr is [here](https://sorion.tumblr.com/) :)


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